Dearest
Sid, Where even to begin? In a life of lucky breaks, your being my advisor, my
first example of how to be a colleague, and, later, my friend, was one of the
most fortunate. What you wished most for me was to stand on my own feet and
learn from my own mistakes (except where you knew that I was making a really colossally
stupid mistake and you gently let me know that I ought to reconsider). Not a
father, often a guide. Not to say that I didn’t identify with you, my advisor:
at the end of my first year of grad school my handwriting had subtly changed to
resemble yours, my “t’s” and “d’s” sprouting happy loops, a haptic memory of
you I carry to this day. It feels right, then, that now I remember you often
when providing guidance to my students on the art of saying more with fewer
words. I will never match your eloquence but that only adds comforting humility
to my coaching others: there’s always room for improvement.
Right
from the moment we first met, I sensed that it was not shitty being Sidney
Mintz. In the culture of complaint that has gripped academia what a gift your
example has been to me! Your vitality and joie de vivre I appreciated
immediately. It took longer for me to realize that you were a big deal to many
people. In exploratory fieldwork in the Dominican Republic, after my first year
at Hopkins, so many scholars sang your praises! Being “un alumno de Seendee Meents” opened doors for me. It was commented
on particularly favorably by more than one person at the Museo del Hombre that
you choose to lunch in the staff cafeteria instead of going out with the directors
to a fancier place.
With
you, it so often comes around to food. And so I must confess that it is in the
kitchen where I remember you most often. So many things I learned from you come
to mind as I stand in front of the stove: food as art, food as chemical, food
as symbol, food as history crystallized.
Sidney:
you will be missed; you will be remembered.
Here,
then, is my very, very humble offering to the recipe collection: my mom’s
recipe for flan. It is sure to bring more sweetness to the life of everyone who
tries it; it is also sure to burn a few fingers with caramel, for what life
after all can be pure sweetness? Blessedly simple to make, there is absolutely
no excuse for watery flan!
*****
Melt
1&1/2 to 2 cups sugar coat the
bottom and sides of a rounded pan with the caramel; let cool for a few minutes
to harden
8
egg yolks ┐ beat well until frothy
3 egg
whites ┘ feel free to adjust the number of eggs & other
ingredients t to fit the pan
2
14&1/2 oz. cans evaporated milk ┐ mix the following
3 ingredients well w beaten eggs
I using reduced fat evaporated
milk: it gives a slightly less full
texture but only slightly…
2
tbsp. vanilla extract
¾
cup sugar ┘
Bake
in bain Marie for 1 hour at 350° until inserted knife comes out clean.
I
just rig up a bain Marie by resting a rounded Pyrex bowl, containing the
caramel coating/flan batter, inside a bit larger Pyrex filled with just enough
water to surround the smaller bowl during baking.
Refrigerate
overnight. To serve, invert the flan into a pie dish or other dish deep enough
to hold the flan + caramel. Top each serving with a spoonful or two of caramel.
